A Leak
'' '' Hangar Bays -- Price of Pleasure '' '' '' The massive Hangar Bays are situated in the upper chambers of the frigate's 'bulbous-shaped' nose and are sub-divided into Primary, Secondary and Tertiary hangars, to separate ships by type and purpose. The hangar-exits are located on the port and starboard sides of this deck, protected by magnetic-containment (mag-con) shields, and (in an emergency) thick durasteel and ray-shielded blast doors. Hanging from the ceiling are two monstrous, and articulated cranes for the managing of large cargo, and even small ships. These hangars are also equipped with Fighter-Racks for the storage of the frigate's starfighter complement.'' '' '' '' The fore and aft bulkheads also serve as storage space for spare parts, repair equipment, coolant, engine oil and other supplies vital for the maintenance of every ship in the bays. A plethora of droids attend to various tasks, along with the frigate's complement of mechanics, technicians and pilots. Several of the ships here (fighter-craft and shuttles) are in a state of repair.'' '' '' '' The aft corner of the Hangar Bays, near the turbolifts, is dedicated to a pilots' rec-room that boasts a small lounge, mess, and lockers. Armed guards are stationed at the transport car stop, checking IDs against the passenger and crew manifests, and scanning incoming and outgoing cargo for pests, parasites and contraband. The Hangars are always alive with activity.'' As Ara te Dannaan, Oppenhiemer's 13 year old daughter eases his old (now Johanna's) Mantaray into the hangar, Zeak watches quietly from the side, his arms clasped behind his back. He's been working with her, teaching her to fly what are essentially gas tanks with over sized engines. This was her first solo errand - a flight in the heavily modded Mantaray (a 2 seat fighter with upgraded engines that will outrun a A-wing) to pick up Ambassador Delgard and bring her to the Nebulon-B. Of course her piloting license and such are all forged, she won't be able to legally do this for years. Skirting the law is the Oppenhiemer way. It is likely far more responsibility than most parents would give a 13 year old, but if she is to be an heir to the Jedi despite Zeak's hopes, one might as well start early. What felt like eons ago, Drax Rendolen was responsible for New Republic StarOps. Part of that responsibility was training and breaking in new recruits for the unit and it was something he had gladly given up when the time came. While he had plenty of patience, it was sometimes nice to not have to exercise it quite so often. The smooth lines of the Arcadia come into view directly behind the Mantaray, splitting off at the last second to ease into a different spot. She was also a heavily modified ship, once a fast and light freighter now converted to an even faster freighter whose sole cargo was an A-Wing and a stockpile of alcohol and weapons. As the engines whine down, so to do the forward spotlights, which the pilot had taken the liberty of turning on while trying to urge traffic to move forward a bit more briskly. The engines if the vessel could outpace a stock A-Wing and he was a bit more used to doing so as much as possible. Shortly after the lights flip off, the boarding ramp hisses and begins to lower. Wasting little time, Drax Rendolen begins to enter the hangar bay, a bit of stiffness in one of his legs showing as he does so. The passenger in that Mantaray could be Ambassador Delgard...or a life-like replica, given the overly still nature of her posture and equally stoic expression on her face. Slender fingers grip the edge of her seat with white-knuckled intensity. Wide eyes face forward and forward only. As the modified fighter cruises into the hangar's gaping maw, her lips part to exhale - who knows how long she's been holding it - a sigh of relief. /Someone/ does NOT enjoy the art of flight. Flicking a sideways glance to the teenager at the controls, Ambrosia can't help but to conjure an image of Gabi sitting there. They couldn't be very apart in age. Initially, the ambassador suspected a prank when the girl approached her. But no...Mr Oppenheimer /had/ specified one of his children would be picking her up...it's her fault for assuming 'elder' to mean 'grown up'. Sealing tightly together again, Ambrosia inhales through her nose nice...and deeply. As the canopy of the Mantaray opens the barely teenage pilot in the front seat stands up and calls out. "Dad, I think the port stabilizer is acting up again, those COMPNOR techs didn't know how to make their modifications stable did they?" she calls out, her voice clearly young. "Heavy modifications take a great deal to keep working properly dear," Oppenhiemer replies. "Regardless I see your landings are coming along nicely - flying is a more important skill than the things your Mother tends to emphasize." Clearly there is some tension on education goals. "You should sit in on this - no doubt you'll participate more deeply in family business whether you want to or not one day." With that Oppenhiemer turns to the back seat, where he hopes Ambrosia is sitting and calls out, "Ambasador, thank you for putting up with the cloak and dagger." The moment the gangway was dropping, Drax was already scanning over the contents of the hangar bay, half expecting Johanna to come tearing through to immediately clock him in the nose. As he is walking down into the hangar, he continues to do so, even being so careful as to look back behind his vessel for a moment to rule out an attack from behind. All other data is pushed to the back of the queue behind this priority process and, eventually, he begins to process what is going on in front of him. "Stars above...," Drax mutters to himself. Zeak Oppenheimer was one of those people where no matter how many meetings he took with him, it would still not equal the amount of time the two had once spent trying to kill each other in space. Hitting the bottom of the ramp, he pivots on the deck plates and starts heading in the direction of the Mantaray, now feeling a touch shameful about how he had flow in. "Madam Ambassador, it's good to see you again." A smile touches his face as he closes in and offers a gloved hand to assist her with her dismount of the vessel. "Nicely done," Ambrosia murmurs softly - a genuine compliment - to the girl before she peels her hands out of their possibly permanent imprint and shakily unfolds to peer over the port side. So boarding the small craft had been easy enough. But, like a cat in a tree... Sending a piercing 'Mom' look Zeak's way, she bends into an awkwardly hug/lean against the Manta's side and swings a leg over to probe for the first st..there it is! With her left foothold secure, the ambassador pivots her hips and thuds the toe of her right boot into the next step. She clings there a moment, tucking her chin over her shoulder to flash Drax a hesitant smile. "It has been a long time," she replies and hazards releasing her left hand to interlock its fingers with the gloved offering. That hand also happens to be snugly encompassed by an exoskeleton of various alloys - a DIY brace likely made from droid tech that stabilizes all fingers, wrist, and forearm. Oppenhiemer ignores the look, of course the galaxy would be utterly disturbed if they knew about the live fire exercises. When Drax inserts himself Zeak remains silent save a gentle cough. His station is one of the many consequences of making poor choices as his marriage to Johanna came apart. Drax notes the exoskeleton as he aids the Ambassador down, enjoying the touch of humor the galaxy has provided as he uses his fresh cybernetic arm. "It most certainly has." He brings his other hand up momentarily to assist with the effort and then renews his smile once the dismount is completed, turning to Ara to regard her for a long moment with genuine warmth in his eyes. "Ara... That was excellent. It's great to see you again after all these years." His expression cooling considerably, but still holding his smile, ever the professional, he rolls his focus over to Zeak and nods his head. "Mr. Oppenhiemer. Shall we move along?" Ambrosia shakes out her arms and legs a little bit after landing and takes those few seconds to watch the subtle dynamic between the two men. Canting her head to the right, she arcs a brow and addresses their host. "Rendolen will be joining us? Splendid. Perhaps my voice will be taken more seriously if it's not the only one relaying information home." Just a touch of bitterness lingering there. "It was," Zeak pauses as if to choose his words, "It was a last minute thing. Anyways, I've preloaded the hangar chief's system with the briefing information, if you will follow me to the pre-op staging area," with that Zeak turns and enters a nearby, Spartan room with a large table, chairs and a holo projector suspended from the ceiling. "Yes, the Service has asked me to wade in here." What the agent didn't voice was that it very well may not be the blessing the Ambassador was taking it for. Drax was still licking his wounds from his last assignment, something his leg was testifying to with each step as he begins moving along behind Zeak, happy to stay on his six and rather wishing he had free reign to eliminate the man. It was twisted that the galaxy saw fit to put the two of them together in such a way that he had to tolerate this sort of thing, but the last thing he needed was to further enrage Johanna. Ambrosia nods, quietly keeping pace with Zeak. She does spare the occasional, questioning glance back at her compatriot. Oppenhiemer tosses a pair of data cards onto the table, one for each of his guests. He then quietly waits for everyone to sit while he calls up the holo images. Drax slides into one of the available chairs, taking advantage of the motion to again look around the hangar to be sure that the "Lady" of the vessel wasn't lurking about. His hand reaching into a pocket inside of his jacket and withdraws a small datapad. This particular one was good for off-the-books meetings such as this one in that it was completely incapable of storing anything. It's sole function was to allow him to scribble some notes during the briefing for follow-up later on and then go right back to a blank slate after. "What have you got?" The data card fits nicely into the hollow of Ambrosia's palm, and then an inner pocket of her vest. She casts a casual glance about the interior while taking her seat at the table, across from Drax. Unoccupied with any gadgets of their own, her hands fold politely atop one knee, legs crossed. "A while ago, Lord Thel approached me about carrying out a covert service to he and the Empire," Oppenhiemer begins as a 3D representation of Aldus Thel comes appears in the table. "As I operate from an exposed position, 'no' is not something I can say to Lord Thel and continue to be useful. Anyways, Lord Thel approached me about functioning as a middle man, purchasing Wookiee slaves from some Trandoshian associates of his, and then covertly funneling them to the Empire for use in some sort of project. One of his subordinates followed up with me," here the image shifts to an ISB agent: A stern figure. His features are hard, and his expression severe. Steel Grey eyes peer from recessed cavities in his skull. His gaze is all at once determined, fierce, and unsettlingly composed. His face, nearly gaunt, is lined with a faint network scars that run across is bald scalp; the decorations of his service in war. A wraith. A ghost. A vengeful apparition of a man. To gaze to long on this hard weathered face is unnerving to most. Zeak's daughter takes on an uncomfortable look as her father continues, "The Agent made the terms Lord Thel was seeking clearer, I was being asked to establish the whole pipeline and laundering mechanism. I can't stop this, and if I refuse to participate there will be hundereds who would be happy to take my place. What I can do is expose the entire operation to you, up to the work site - I don't have all those details. In exchange, I need your assurances that my name will appear in none of your official reports, and that you will treat this with the urgency it requires. . ." Zeak then pauses to allow for questions and statements, Hurry up and wait was the way of things in the intelligence trade and now it was one of those "hurry up" periods. Drax leans forward in his seat, staring at the images of each of the men before him in turn. Meanwhile, his hand begins to scribble a few things on his pad: "Thel. Agent. Dosha." The concept of Zeak's position was a common one amongst assets in the field. Their value was considerably greater in their current position and it irked him to have one more reason to not shoot the man on the spot, especially with the value of this sort of intelligence. If taken at face value, which he certainly wouldn't be entirely doing. His Thel note would be handled directly with NRI to pull their dossier, but for the others, he launches directly into the questions. "What was your feel for the agent? This a go-to guy for Thel? You catch a name?" He waits a moment for a response before continuing, "Any idea on numbers or sources here? How many slaves are getting moved?" A soft 'hmf' chuffs from the ambassador's throat. The depth of sadness and worry in her gaze becomes at odds with the gentle, upward curl of her lips as she watches the phantomed faces of evil materialize. "I know only too well the nature of Aldus' offers. He is indeed a master of making his wants known, and securing results. So, much as I'm inclined to, Mr. Oppenhiemer, I cannot condemn you for being his 'yes' man." Her pensive expression drops into her lap and she worries her lower lip between teeth while finally taking out a datapad and punching a few notes with her right hand. "Mayhap this time his manipulations will backfire. Terribly." Blowing a sigh out the side of her mouth, she pauses in her typing. "You're a brave soul, Mr Oppenhiemer, for trusting in my assurances a second time. Please take heart in knowing that this skull is an extremely difficult one to crack," she raps on her temple, "so your name will remain undocumented, though I doubt they'll hazard fishing around in there a second time. When it comes to urgency surrounding matters of slavery, well...you're obviously addressing the right faction." "No names, as for my impressions," Zeak begins before continuing, "Cruel and very green. He walks like he knows the brutish parts of his trade but has not yet taken to subtlety. As for numbers, the ISB agent claims many tens of thousands over time, 5000 in the first load but I am, for obvious reasons, skeptical. Continuing -- the Trandoshians are apparently a minority party looking to start a revolution." Zeak continues as the image changes to an image of Trandoshia. "I don't know names or numbers, but there seem to be many based on the size of shipments. They are abducting the Wookiees, from Kashyyyk I'd assume, and are selling them to the operation in exchange for weapons. This is to the Empire's advantage as the ruling Blackscale clan has apparently been resisting Imperial preferences since their liberation from the New Sith Order. Lord Thel would like a friendlier arrangement, and perhaps a personal army. With prevailing rates, 7-10 Trandoshian soldiers will be armed an outfitted for every Wookiee that passes through the pipeline." Ara squirms in her seat as Zeak continues. Her father has always been a touch cold and distant, a 'hard' man, but Zeak the cold spy and tactician is something he has traditionally hid from her; today is a new step in her education. Her discomfort doesn't go unoticed by Zeak, but he continues anyways, "The Trandoshian apparently lack transport, as such I have repurposed the CSAS Excise, a Dreadnought class cruiser for them. They will be transporting the first load in the next few days to the Slave chambers of the pleasure palance on Nar Shadaa." Here the image shifts to a map of the pleasure palace pulled from the OOAG archives. "The new major-domo, a Falleen, will act as an intermediary. He will pay the Trandoshians or their agents in armor and weapons and hold the Wookiees for a few days. As a side note, while the Falleen and the Hutts are complicit in this, they do not know they are working for the Empire. If you choose to intervene at this point in the chain, while aggression may be warranted, it would be wise to leave the Falleen and his operation intact in its essentials. It will be useful to us in the future." Ambrosia listens intently as Zeak continues, her expression darkening just a touch, perhaps made softer by the little female's presence across the room. It doesn't take a parent to sense her discomfort in the midst of this very adult, very real discussion, but this one tries to alleviate it, if just in a tiny way. Her fingers slip into her vest pockets a third time, procuring a small, wrapped hard candy - part of her travel stash. Flashing it between two fingers in the hopes that Ara will see, she reaches to the floor and slides it in her direction. Then it's back to business. "*IS* warranted. There's no questioning that," Ambrosia grumbles, voice low and firm. "If the 'Pleasure---Palace'," tongue working as though around a rancid taste in her mouth, "'Operators' do not know who they are working for, then how will the Wookiees be relocated to their final destination, in Imperial custody?" Drax's head nods at various moments throughout the briefing. For the most part, he is simply absorbing the situation and pondering it as he goes. "Some of this is going to have to get back to the Senate, but I'll need to get some eyes on the ground there to get a better idea for the depth of the water we're in." He sits back in his chair and looks down at his pad where he had circled the word Blackscale. "I'm owed debts in the Blackscale clan. I wouldn't call them 'liberated' so much, really. They were willing and eager to be taken up in power with their Sith masters." Raising his stylus hand up to point forward at the floating images, as if pointing at their very opposition, "The goal is to minimize this as much as possible and make it seem to in no way involve you, or us even, for better effect. I've got some ideas on how to do this and point it at locals, if a I can get on the first ship with a team. If it's locals, excellent. If it's my own folk, fine by me." Ara does indeed notice the candy. After it slides to her she seemlessly pops it in her mouth. The tension in her shoulders relaxes slightly as she realizes the adults know what she is struggling with, and are okay with it. "Not sure if it will be useful, but the ship is being crewed largely by droids - mostly R6 and M-3PO units - they needed a crew that could be quickly made clean should something go south. As for the pickup the Imperials are operating a cover company, "Bonadan Labor Solutions" which will be picking the Wookies up," Oppenhiemer continues. "The company will officially be leasing the Wookiees to the Empire, in an effort to keep the whole thing off the Imperial books - it is likely Lord Thel is keeping this whole thing secret from a large part of the Empire, a large part of the council of Moffs, perhaps even the Emperor himself." Oppenhiemer would normally pause here to emphasize evidence of Thel's possible treason, but this is not the scarier point he has to make so he pushes through. "I'm not sure what Aldus Thel intends to do with the Wookiees, but the ISB agent alluded to mining of something rare and dangerous -- and this is why I suggested you might choose not to be aggressive with the Falleen and his operation. One has to wonder what Lord Thel needs tens of thousands of Wookiees to mine - I should note that a sudden spike in labor needs likely indicates a very large construction project, and we all know what recent very large Imperial construction projects look like. If you can find a way to track the Wookiees, you might choose to liberate them on the job site, so as to obtain more information." Now, Drax scribbles the word DROIDS and underlines it, a devious grin forming on his face as he does so. The continuation of Zeak's thoughts turns it into a grimace as he nods his head. "Zeak, I've both been in labor camps and on the other end of large, Imperial construction projects. I don't wish either on anyone else, but this is a call that I'm not going to be making. I'll check in with the big heads and we'll see how to proceed." He flips off his datapad at this point, not really needing the notes, but having used them more as a memory aid. "The ship looks easy enough to 'disappear' in transit the first time around at most and being tagged in some way as a close second. Droid crews are easy enough to handle as long as you hit the bridge and power generators early." He shakes his head again at the idea of letting them through, but preparing himself for the possibility of at least one ship doing so for the sake of intelligence. "Maybe one goes through, at most, and we starve them for labor the rest of the way. Either way, this has to get kicked up the chain." Logic is a miserable thing. Knowing Zeak's right and struggling with that concept, Ambrosia pinches the bridge of her nose and leans her elbows on the table for a moment. Labor solutions, her ass. More like...labor avoidance. Lazy bastards can't bear the task of mining their own shit. How volatile /is/ this thing he's after? "I suppose it would work in our benefit if the grandiose Lord Thel is going rouge with this operation. Can expect less support from the Imperial fleet in safeguarding it. Which is why, presumeably, he wants the Trandoshian army?" She gestures to Drax with a nod of grim agreement. "I've worn a collar myself. Sixteen very long, very painful years, a piece of property. I'm not fond of allowing any of the citizens of Kashyyk endure a minute's labor, but we do need a way in, to locate this worksite." Putting her datapad away with one hand, she chances a swipe at her eye with the other. Must be a piece of dust in here. "I'll press the matter through our government channels. You'll hit the military angle? I can't get us ships. Not for this." She directs to Drax. The ambassador stands, looking to Zeak with a solemn bow of her head. "Thank you. I understand the risk you have taken to share this information with us and I will hold that sacred. If you learn of any new developments...this arrangement was acceptable. Your daughter is welcome to chauffer me any time." A twitch of a smile there, as she says goodbye.